The Matiushin Case (2 page)

Calm settled in their home again. And from that time it seemed his mother and father's souls knitted together into one, as solid as rock. His mother bought another carpet and some new tall-stem glasses: she saved up what his father earned. Matiushin could sense this and he felt afraid of being alone, of being unnecessary to them. That was when he started missing his older brother and yearning for him. Grigorii Ilich had brought a colour photograph from Moscow, showing himself and Yasha, smart and spruce, standing in front of the Kremlin wall
–
the snapshot had been taken at the tomb of the unknown soldier. They put the photo in the best spot, in the china cabinet with the tall glasses and the father's gleaming army dagger
–
not for themselves, but for visitors, so that people would see it. Little Vasya used to steal the photograph for a while and secretly hide away with it in his room, dreaming of growing up soon and going off into a bright, new distance, like Yashka.

Yakov used to come visiting in summer, during his leave, but at that time Vasenka's parents sent him to summer camp, and they didn't visit him there
–
that was the order of things in their family. During those years his father gave up drinking and smoking and started taking care of his health, although he was still a long way from being old
–
which was why he was genuinely afraid of dying. Matiushin's father had put down roots in Yelsk: he commanded this little place that was almost an army town, and his authority there had long been undisputed. Ten years of living in the same place and with such great respect mellowed Grigorii Ilich. The peace of this little provincial corner, where he was the boss, inspired the idea of hiding away from life, surrounding himself with the little town that he controlled as protective cover.

The father's passion was hunting and then, after that, fishing
–
when he no longer wanted anything but peace
–
and he even came to love relaxing all on his own. But his two rifles, trophies from the Germans, remained in the home with him, even though he had got out of the habit of hunting. For as long as Matiushin could remember, the guns had been kept in the apartment, in their father's room, which no one dared to enter without his permission, let alone in his absence. There was a bureau in there that looked like a safe, made in times long past by a forgotten soldier craftsman. Every summer his father used to take out the guns and warm them in the sun, for some reason, and then they were cleaned and lubricated. Since he didn't like getting smeared with dirt himself, he trusted his son to clean the barrels with ram-rods. Matiushin performed this work with zeal, knowing that his father would call for him to bring the cleaned guns, then put them back in their covers and lock them in the walnut bureau with its only little key. The bureau, which he deliberately concealed from his son with his back, gave out the smells of leather, gun oil and something else. The bureau also contained numerous little shelves, drawers and boxes, and Matiushin only had time to glimpse their dark outlines before his father slammed the door shut and locked his property away, then turned round and drove his son
out.

Matiushin fell in love with mystery, and he also fell in love with rummaging among things
–
his mother's buttons, for instance
–
and with hiding some things himself.

He grew up left to his own devices. Studying came easily to him, without any effort, but because of that he was tormented by boredom. The only thing that could rouse his interest in something was praise, but if he wasn't praised, he got bored again.

Very early on, Grigorii Ilich decided that he wanted his younger son to be a doctor, and not just a medic, but a specialist in military medicine. He needed a personal doctor, but someone close, and only a military man
–
as if a civilian couldn't have made sense of his health
–
and he wouldn't trust a stranger. If anyone in the family fell ill, they were treated in the infirmary: even the children were taken to an army doctor, otherwise Grigorii Ilich refused to believe in their illness.

In his early childhood, Matiushin had an earache and the army doctor, accustomed to simplicity, performed an irrigation and an inflation, probably damaging Matiushin's eardrum. At the time no one attached any importance to the fact that he became hard of hearing in one ear. However, many years later, at his first army medical exam, Matiushin was unexpectedly rejected because of his hearing. His loss of hearing was declared incurable, although he had grown accustomed to it in everyday life long ago, it didn't cause him any problems, and he was healthier and stronger for his age than his peers.

When he learned that his son had been declared unfit for military service, Grigorii Ilich didn't say anything for days, not even wishing to notice his son's presence in his house. He broke his silence with the words:

‘He can't serve! Then what can he do, the little invalid? I thought there was going to be an army doctor in the house, but we've got a sponger instead
…'

When his father gave up thinking about him and stopped believing in him, for some reason Matiushin felt better. He was prepared simply to work, without being afraid of getting dirty, and not come first in everything
–
which his father had been afraid of all his life. For Matiushin, study and the path into the future were replaced by his job, but he chose the first trade that came to hand, a dirty and unattractive one
–
as a machine fitter. His father let him drop out of school without saying a word but despised him, jeering even when Matiushin gave his honestly earned wages to his mother.

‘Look here, our breadwinner's home! To feed the lice.'

As for Yakov, their parents sent him thirty roubles a month and no reproaches were heard. Grigorii now recognised his own likeness only in his elder son
–
and in his heart he started growing attached to this thought, feeling an unexpected weakness for Yakov. In his final year Yakov didn't visit Yelsk. He informed his father in a letter that during his leave he was going to join a construction brigade in order to earn some money. They were sending him money every month from home and he had a stipend at the college as well, and how much did anyone really need in a barracks? And so Grigorii Ilich grew dejected. In autumn another letter arrived: Yakov informed his parents that he had married. He sent a photo of the wedding and a letter in which he explained drily that he hadn't wanted to involve his parents in the expense or to bother them, and that was why it had turned out this
way.

In his heart, the father was glad that Yakov had reasoned like that. At that time Grigorii Ilich had developed a passion for saving money, amassing it in his Savings Bank book so that even Alexandra Yakovlevna didn't really know how much of it had piled up. Everything was turned into savings which he was too greedy to spend unless it was on himself: on his beloved Japanese spinners and fishing line, and once a Finnish sheepskin coat was bought, because he was afraid of taking sick in the winter in his ordinary coat. By that time the family was living off the state: Grigorii Ilich received a special food allowance as a member of the Municipal Party Committee and an army ration too. Alexandra Yakovlevna took care of the household. She already had to do everything at home herself or with her son's help
–
Grigorii Ilich strictly forbade her to use his soldiers, and if the question came up he would
say:

‘You've got that deaf one, rope him
in.'

A rather stingy money order was sent off in response to the newly-weds' letter. No matter how closely they studied the photo that had been sent, the only person they could make out clearly was their son Yasha. They stood it in the china cabinet
–
yet another little icon that they could be proud of
–
and the young couple came to Yelsk and paid their respects to the father a year later.

‘Everyone, this is my Liudmila!' Yakov thundered from the doorstep, and pushed his wife, who was displeased with something, into the parental
home.

Liudmila seemed to be there entirely independently, on her own account. She was a tough woman, confident in her beauty, and her radiant body was curvaceously desirable, although she wasn't twenty yet: not even Alexandra Yakovlevna could bring herself to call her ‘daughter'. The power of love that she held over Yakov was obvious immediately. He was lovesick and never left her side, but acted as if he was in charge. In the home Liudmila respectfully kept away from Grigorii Ilich. She listened indifferently when Alexandra Yakovlevna gave them her matronly instructions about the best way for them to arrange their room and how to do the
bed.

In Liudmila's presence Grigorii Ilich spoke only to his son, letting her know that Yakov was more important in their family, and pretending to look at the young woman in a quite ordinary way, although he felt uneasy as his glances scraped involuntarily over her breasts and thighs.

The summer field exercises were beginning, and the father was glad to take a break and set off for somewhere well away from
home.

Everything had been arranged for the young couple
–
Yelsk was a deadly boring place, but every morning a little army jeep from the garrison drove up to the building and took them out of town to the river. Yakov and Liudmila started taking Vasenka with them for Alexandra Yakovlevna's sake. For the first few days she had set out, with a childish kind of joy, to relax with her family, as she thought of them. She had her fill of joy and then grew rather weary of it, but for some reason she wanted the young couple to keep going to the river with the younger son, if not with
her.

Matiushin felt drawn to Yakov: he felt proud of having a brother like that but he also felt timid in the face of Yakov's happiness. Yakov, who was a bit on the pudgy side, lounged on the river bank just as if he was at home and kept an eye on Liudmila, but all he wanted to do was sleep, and she wanted to swim and sunbathe. The languorous trips that the three of them made together illuminated Matiushin's life with such joy: new openness, the faith he was regaining in himself, in his life, in the immense world that had swung wide open. Without even realising it, this unfamiliar, grown-up woman suddenly became close and dear to him, undeniably unique. He could only turn his clammy, froggy skin inside out in his eagerness to submit to her. It seemed to him that now Liudmila was going to live with them for ever
–
and this summer suddenly rose up so bright and clear, so earthly and unearthly at the same time, as if it had sprung from under the ground.

Lounging on the bank, tired after swimming
–
and she liked to swim alone for a long time in the smooth water
–
Liudmila allowed him to knead and stroke her back and shoulders, which was pleasant for her and probably made her sleepy, although it set her young admirer trembling. But sometimes Yakov and Liudmila disappeared
–
Yakov took the little blanket and led his wife a long way away, to the tall field of maize, without saying anything to his brother, without even thinking of explaining anything. Sensing his little brother's perplexed glances, Yakov grew more irritated by his presence, and once his irritation erupted and he reproached his wife loudly when Vasenka was giving her a massage on the river bank after her
swim.

‘Don't you understand, you stupid fool, he's groping
you!'

When they got home, Liudmila went dashing to pack her things. Yakov mocked her and flung everything out of the suitcase, and then, infuriated by her wilfulness, he suddenly lashed her across the face, as if he thought that would bring her to her senses. Little Liudmila stood there and burst into tears. Hearing her crying, Alexandra Yakovlevna ran into the room. Without a word, she flung herself at Yakov before he could gather his wits and clawed him as if she wanted to tear his throat out. Yakov froze to the spot in fear … Coming to her senses and recovering her strength, Liudmila put her arms round the mother from behind and, acting fearlessly and pitilessly, dragged the mother away from her husband as hard as she could. Her strength, seemingly passionate yet also somehow cold, free of any strife, immobilised the mother, who was thrashing about in floods of tears. With the same cold passion Liudmila nestled her lips against the back of the mother's head, repeating that everything was all right between Yakov and herself, and that she, Liudmila, was to blame for everything. Alexandra Yakovlevna quietened down. Small and dry, like a spider, she went back to the kitchen, into her web, where she felt glad that the peace of the home had not been destroyed. Liudmila took Yakov off for a walk and they disappeared until night-time.

The next day Grigorii Ilich got back from the exercises. No one in the house said anything. Oppressed by a feeling that the place had suddenly grown cramped, he laughed, as if in jolly mood, and bundled the young couple off to the dacha to finish off their honeymoon there, well away from home. A week later, Yakov and Liudmila returned. By that time, tickets for the return journey had already been acquired, to let them know their hosts were tired of having guests.

There were a few days left until their departure for Moscow. They didn't go to the river any more. Out of basic indifference, Yakov ignored his brother's presence in the home
–
during those days he had many conversations with his father. Large and lusty, chortling toothily as they discussed the future, they sat through the evenings, and the father instructed the son as to how he should conduct himself and what he should seek to obtain from the army, generously and willingly recalling incidents from his own life, when he himself was just getting started in the service. He couldn't put a word in for his son; the border forces were under a different department, and Yakov would have to fight to be sent to the border he chose. Grigorii Ilich's advice was that he should start with remote and distant places, where it was easier to fight your way up, where the men got weary of serving; if that was a risk, it meant there was also a chance to show what you were made of. The Far East or the North. If he started with the West, in the Baltic or in Belorussia, where things were cushier, they'd gobble him up, walk all over him
–
the kind of men serving there were only safeguarding their own cushy
spot.